


Down the River

by MassiveSpaceWren, tisfan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mad Max Fusion, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-02 06:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20271517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MassiveSpaceWren/pseuds/MassiveSpaceWren, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Ten Rings let a captive escape to play a little cat and mouse.They didn't count on anyone getting in the way.





	1. This is a routine pursuit

**Author's Note:**

> For the WinterIron Reverse Big Bang
> 
> The chapter titles are taken from quotes out of the various mad max movies. You don't need to have seen Mad Max to get the gist of most of this story, but there are references to Mad Max's universe in here, particularly locations, and a few of the warlords.
> 
> PS - If you have NOT seen Mad Max, allow me to STRONGLY recommend it.
> 
> Also for Tony Stark Bingo, Square A2, Damsels in Distress

The flying worked just as planned; Tony Stark had torched most of the Ten Rings’ camp, including at least three of their war rigs, and then blasted off into the wastelands.

He probably should have expected them to come after him. He did, really. And he’d set some traps, collapsed at least two cave systems. He saw the dents in the ground as he was flying away.

What he hadn’t accounted for was:

1) crashing. The flight system gave way after about twenty minutes and he hit the sand at more than fifty kpm. Not too bad, and the sand ate up most of the impact.

2) landing. He had a sprained wrist, bruises, cuts, and probably a concussion.

3) landing zone. Tony was crashed out in the desert wasteland, with a two headed lizard staring at him curiously. Less water than he’d planned, but they’d interrupted him before everything was ready.

4) grief. He’d meant to bring Yinsen with him, but the man had sacrificed himself to buy Tony a little more time.

_Don’t waste your life._

Tony snagged the lizard and smacked it on the outside of the metal casing he’d used to fly out of Ten Ring’s camp. Stuffed it in a bag. He could eat it later. Right now, he had to pick a direction, find shelter, hopefully water that he could drink, and plan the rest of his escape.

***

Bucky peered through his binoculars. 

“What is it?”

“Routine pursuit,” Bucky said. Which was only half a lie. The fleeter had _flown _out of the camp, causing explosions on his way out that had alerted Bucky’s scout team. 

“They gonna catch him?” Hawkeye wondered.

“Probably,” Bucky decided. The scouts were too far away to get to him, the man was on foot and limping, and Ten Rings had their big rig out for blood. By the time Bucky could scramble the scouts, they’d be only a few minutes ahead, if that. And they did not have the manpower to take on Ten Rings. 

The only way that this fleeter was going to live was if he’d impressed someone in the Rings. “Set up for a rescue anyway. If they decide to play with their food, we might be able to get him.”

“You’re going soft, Soldier,” Hawkeye said. 

“He’s obviously valuable,” Bucky pointed out. 

“Soft,” Hawkeye repeated, but he went off to start the planning. Not that there was much to plan, per se. They’d been doing forcible relocations for years now. Bucky and Hawkeye would try to run down the target, Falcon would set up the escape route. They’d grab a war barge and head down the Fetid. 

The river had once been called something else, back… before.

But now it was just slime on top of poisonous sludge. Not suited for drinking, and not really for sailing, but it would get them away from any pursuit. And it wasn’t like the air and the dirt and the wind weren’t poisonous, too.

People were tougher now than they used to be. Mutant, sometimes, and almost always dangerous.

But tough.

The fleeter was tough. He’d crashed that suit in the dust and dirt, gotten up, and started running.

He wasn’t going to get away, but he’d kept going.

Bucky admired that.

***

The chanting and the singing and the stomping, all in time, all loud and masculine and furious, was designed to freak Tony out.

_Congrats, guys, it works._

Not like he hadn’t been terrified for every moment of three months worth of capture, but at the time, he’d had value. They’d wanted something from him.

They hadn’t gotten it. They hadn’t got it when they offered him a slave of his own, or a fancy workshop and trade goods. They hadn’t gotten it from him when they’d decided on torture instead, sand baths until his skin was raw and abraded, time in the cage hung over the lava pits. They’d threatened to drown him more than once -- it still astounded him, the idea that a man could be submerged in water until they died. He’d been shocked and beaten and burned, and still. He didn’t give them what they wanted.

He wasn’t going to give it to them now.

Tony lifted his chin, let his gaze fix on Raza, the leader. Raza was speaking some language, a language Tony didn’t know. Always before, Yinsen had translated for him, but Yinsen wasn’t here anymore. 

“He says,” one of the Ten Rings spoke, “that you have been very brave, Tony Stark. You have been very clever. You deserve a chance. You will be given water. Clothes. A weapon. And an hour. If you are still alive and free by darkness, you can go. He will set you free.”

“No he won’t,” Tony said, smiling coldly. Because Raza never let anything go, once he got hold of it. But it might have been a chance. 

It probably wasn’t; Raza meant Tony to suffer, and possibly be recaptured or killed, as a lesson to the other slaves that Ten Rings kept.

_See what will happen? But the Ten Rings is merciful._

Raza might have expected him to go into the desert and slit his own throat. It would be a quick, and honorable, death.

But Tony’s motto was _fall down nine times, get up ten_.

They weren’t going to win. And he certainly wasn’t going to make it easy for them.

“All right, let me see this weapon.”

Scrapper gun, a rough-polish bit of pipe, a loading dock, trigger. A bag of powder and shot. It wasn’t bad, for a gun. It just wasn’t very useful, either. He could get one shot off and then need three minutes to reload, assuming it didn’t jam. Or…

Or explode.

Well, maybe Ten Rings were, in fact, just as stupid as they looked.

***

At this point, Bucky knew the rules as well as the Ten Rings. One hour, one weapon, one canteen of water.

All of it was a lie; the water was drugged, the weapon designed to backfire, and while the fleeter would get an hour’s head start, they wouldn’t live. It didn’t matter, Ten Rings would hunt them down and kill them. 

No one ever was set free.

Except when the Avengers’ Clan got involved. And even then, they usually only had an escape rate of seventy percent. And those that lived often fought. Devil you know, sometimes. A poor, beleaguered fleeter would run from Bucky right back into hell. Whatever. You couldn’t save everyone.

Sometimes, you couldn’t save anyone.

He skimmed the ground with his binoculars, trying to decide what the most likely path would be. “He’ll head north,” Bucky predicted.

“Into the mountains? You think he’s crazy?”

“I think he’ll try to set more traps, slow ‘em down. Avalanche’d stop Ten Rings, ‘least for a while.”

“Okay, I got two gallons of gas and some of Wilson’s bathtub gin that says he goes for the flat track,” Hawkeye said. 

“You wait there, I’ll wait on the hill,” Bucky agreed.

“Whoever brings him home gets to keep him,” Hawkeye said.

“Deal.”

Not that having an extra mouth to feed would be a simple or easy thing; the clan was suffering from the recent loss of Gastown, which had been one of the better trading posts for a while. There were new traders, but the Avengers hadn’t formed a treaty with them, yet. Someone who could overthrow Immorten Joe was a warlord to be feared or geared. 

Until they knew which way that wind was blowing, best let the storm rage.

Bucky selected a good waiting spot, and gave Hawkeye a quick salute. The archer was already gone, not looking back, headed to the flats, where any sane fleeter would run, smooth, open ground. He’d be vulnerable and visible the whole time, but they seemed drawn to it anyway.

“Not you, though,” Bucky said to the man he hadn’t yet met. “You’ve a clever one.”


	2. The Vision Dims and All That

The high ground was the only advantage Tony was going to get, of that he was sure.

He scrambled for the ditch, off what was remaining of the road. Sometimes there were old pipes and underground places. He didn’t expect any of that here, but it would have been okay, if there were. He’d have taken advantage. But there wasn’t any holes or safe places.

He was pretty sure there were never going to be safe places again; he was going to die out here, a victim of the road and of Ten Rings, and the only thing he could hope to do was take as many of the fuckers with him as possible.

When Tony reached the shadows, a bare flick of shade, but he could rest there a moment and see what, exactly, he had in his pack aside from poisoned water, he was sweating and dizzy. He had to dump the water as soon as he got hidden, otherwise his body’s needs were going to overpower his good sense. He wasn’t sure what was in the water; something to make him pass out, or give him leaky bowels, god only knew. But it wasn’t going to be nice.

He dumped the water, scraped dirt over it, and then pulled further into the shadow. 

He would just about kill someone for a cup of water.

But he didn’t have that, and there was no point in wishing. He dug through the bag they’d given him. First off, the bag itself was good canvas, tough and sturdy. He could use strips of it as rope. The pipe gun was sturdy enough. His shirt would make a good satchel charge, holding the powder until it could light from a fuse.

He wasn’t even sure if he had a full hour before Raza would be hunting him down. Time to get to work. He grabbed the base of his tee with the intentions of pulling it off.

“You’re cute, honey,” a voice said, startling Tony so badly that he nearly screamed, “but we don’t have time for a romp.”

The man who stood with his back to the sun was nothing but a shadow, and then he moved forward. Long, thick hair rippled down one side of his head, his scalp shaved on the other side. He wore an air-filter mask, goggles, and thick, desert clothing, not black, but brown and tan. He’d blend in if he stopped moving. In fact, he probably had, since Tony hadn’t seen him.

Tony gripped the pipe-gun. They wouldn’t take him back, and if all he got was this one fighter, it would have to be enough. He’d dine in Valhalla, if he had to.

“I can blow us both to hell,” Tony threatened. He didn’t point the gun at the man. He pointed it at the bag of powder.

“An interesting suggestion,” the man said. He held up a finger, slowly, cautiously, as if he didn’t want to startle Tony. “Not very smart, though. The wind is blowing the wrong way. More likely, you’ll bring this little hill down over your head and knock me over backward. You might kill me. You’ll probably bury yourself in this rock, and if you die right away, you’ll be damn lucky. Waste of effort. Might as well just shoot yourself in the head and have done with it. Better plan, come with me, wait for a better opportunity. I don’t intend to take you back to Ten Rings.”

Tony’s hand wobbled on the pipe gun. And then there were more, behind him, more men, pointing guns. “I don’t believe you.” He raised the gun; he would take his chances.

“Fuck,” the man said. “Don’t have time for this. I’ll apologize later.” He dropped something at his feet, and there was smoke and popping lights. He kicked it backward and it exploded in a shower of fireworks behind him. 

While Tony was blinking, black speckles obscuring his vision, the man closed in. “Don’t stab me,” he cautioned. “I don’t have time for it.”

And he scooped Tony up like Tony was nothing but a child, threw him over one broad shoulder, and ran.

***

Bucky threw the man onto his bike, belly across the guzzeline tank, like he was in one of those old Western Books that Steve liked to read so much. The man was kicking and struggling and while it was understandable, it was also going to cost him.

“Stop it,” Bucky said, and he swatted the guy’s ass for him. Bucky’s heavy, metal prosthetic frequently served as a painful, blunt weapon, and the guy yelped, rubbing at his backside. “Stay still and you might live long enough.”

“Long enough to what?” the guy grumbled, and then clamped onto Bucky’s leg with both hands as he threw himself into the bike’s saddle, slammed the machine into gear and spun out.

It didn’t take Ten Rings long to recover, and Bucky unconsciously crowded closer to the body of his bike, not wanting to present any larger of a target than truly necessary. He ended up with his chin practically resting on the guy’s butt as he drove like hell, trying to get away. Bullets tugged at his clothes like invisible needles, jerking him this way and that.

“Get off me,” the guy yelled, and then shrieked again as Bucky banked into a tight curve and nearly threw him overboard.

“I’ll let you go if you want, soon as we got a good lead,” Bucky promised, “for now, fucking hold still!”

They were out of range of gun fire soon enough, although Bucky had very little hopes that they hadn’t attracted attention. If he was very lucky, they might get out of this without a long-distance chase. He certainly hoped so, as he only had the one tank of guzzeline and not much chance of a refill. Ten Rings had tanker trucks, so they could refuel on the go, if they needed to.

Bucky snarled, ducked lower as another bullet zipped by his head. At least Ten Rings had lousy aim. Or bad guns.

Or-- they were being herded right into a trap.

“Fuck me,” Bucky yelled, but he considered their options, then screeched to a halt, nearly knocking them both over. “Get up, get up, get upright.”

“What the hell--”

“Listen to me, fleeter,” Bucky said. “They are going to catch you, they’re going to kill you. We both know that.”

“I’m supposed to consider you the better option, I take it. Good crazy desert lunatic, bad crazy desert lunatic?”

“Yes,” Bucky said, “if it makes you feel better, I am the better damn option.”

“I don’t know how you expect me to believe that, when I can’t even see your face to tell if you’re lying.”

Bucky ripped off his goggles and mask, stared at the man. He really hadn’t noticed, before, just how good looking this particular fleeter was. The man seemed, likewise, stunned. They stared at each other for a long moment, and then, “Look, help me out, I’m trying to save your life. Or your soul. Or something. Look, I don’t care if you believe me, but if you’re gonna fight me, get off right now. We won’t survive.”

The man stared at him a moment longer then nodded, gruff. “Okay, I’ll play this game for a while. I’m Tony.”

“Bucky,” Bucky said. “Now get behind me, and hold on tight.”

At least the guy knew how to ride; balancing easily and helping Bucky go faster when they needed to. 

His arms were warm around Bucky’s middle, and he should not be noticing that, nor the way the man clung to his back, the feel of his thighs against Bucky’s.

_Oh, I’m in trouble._


	3. Ain't We a Pair, Raggedy Man?

It was getting close to night and the Ten Rings hadn’t shown signs of giving up. Not that Tony expected them to. Bucky did a few tricky things with tracking to slow them down, and another thing where he’d had a crude lift with a badly staged counterweight waiting for them. They’d ridden down from the top of the ridge into the valley and then Bucky had set it on fire to discourage pursuit. Nonetheless, the chase was about to run into nightfall and they were almost out of guzzeline.

“They’re not going to stop at dark, are they?” Tony yelled in Bucky’s ear.

“No, they ain’t,” Bucky said. “They’ll lie an’ tell everyone they let you go. But you’ll be dead and no one will argue about it.”

“Head east,” Tony said, making a decision all at once. He was going to trust this road warrior. It was probably going to get him killed, or worse, but at least he will have done something.

“That’s not where we’re headed,” Bucky said. “Pretty much the opposite.”

“I guess. Not sure about our final destination, but there’s a Ten Rings supply dump about seven or eight clicks from here, east. I saw one of their maps, while they held me prisoner,” Tony said. “They won’t expect us to head right for them. We need guzzoline, food, and rest. They’ve got all those things, we just need to take it away from them. Also, headed west, we’re a big ass target against the sun and they can see us for a lot longer than we’ll be able to see them.”

“You are either a genius, or you’re going to get us killed,” Bucky said. He slid around eastward as soon as there was enough flat space to do it.

“I say, is it too much to ask for both?” Tony wondered, talking to Bucky’s leather jacket. It was possible that he was going to get them killed, and he was technically a genius. 

About two klicks out, Bucky killed the motorcycle engine. “We’ll walk from here. About half a klick out, find a safe space to stash the bike. I don’t want to run all that far.”

“I don’t want to run at all, so we’re on the same page, there,” Tony told him.

“Do you know what we’re walking into here?” Bucky asked.

“A hidden cave, but I know what their markers look like. Maybe two guards, possibly as many as four. Should be weapons, food, guzzoline. Spare parts. The whole haul.”

“I could kiss you,” Bucky said. He got his gun checked and kept it out by his side, pushing the bike with his mechanical hand.

“We find an impulse drum charger, or parts I can use to make one, and I just might let you,” Tony said.

“What’s that?”

“Upgrade for your bike,” Tony said. “Forced induction system. Runs cleaner, faster. Lighter.”

“You’re a _mechanic_,” Bucky said, his voice a mere breath on the wind. “Oh, my god, a mechanic. No wonder they want you.”

“Yeah, well, I like making my own choices, what can I say,” Tony said. “Been a rebel my whole life.”

Bucky nodded, like that meant anything and Tony didn’t elaborate. They weren’t sharing history. No one did; there was before the War and there was Now. No one really talked about what happened before the War. Not really. Green grass and clean water. That was almost a myth. “I uh… You don’t happen to know anything about de-sals, do you?”

Tony blinked. “D-cells? Batteries?”

“Nothing, nevermind,” Bucky said. “Hush up, now, we’re gettin’ close.”

“You’re the one talking, road warrior,” Tony said, but he started checking the ground and nearby rocks for signs. “Stash the bike. The cave should be at the end of this ravine.”

***

Bucky did not enjoy killing. Most of the time. It was, he reluctantly admitted, necessary to preserve his own life, and the lives of the people he cared about. But all things considered, he would rather have not killed anyone. 

Enough people had died during the War, the one that had turned civilization into this sprawl of predators and prey. He didn’t need to add to the total. He wasn’t a bullet farmer, planting the seeds of discord.

Except that he was.

And except when he did.

Killing the Ten Rings guards, while not exactly pleasurable, had been necessary. And maybe a bit of vengeance. Bucky stood over the corpses and listened as Tony said, “I know that one.” He pulled up his sleeve to show Bucky a patch of scars along the inside of Tony’s elbow. “Had a thing for laying red hot iron on a man’s skin. Got a matching set on the inside of my thigh.”

Bucky glanced up at Tony, the rigid way his body was set, the tension in his shoulders. How casually he spoke, but the fact that his hands were shaking.

“Want me to shoot him again?”

“Save your bullets,” Tony said. “He wouldn’t feel it anyway.” 

Which did not stop Tony from kicking the dead man before they walked away. Bucky hesitated, then reached out a hand to Tony. He knew-- he knew the way being a prisoner could strip your humanity away. On Bucky, it was even visibly obvious.

Tony took his hand without hesitation, even though it was the false one; the one Hydra had cut away in their efforts to make him their tool. “I’m fine,” Tony said.

“Yeah, you are,” Bucky agreed, softly. “I know.” 

Tony managed a smile and then they went to see what supplies they’d managed to liberate.

The main part of the cave was the Ten Rings guards’ living area. Portable furnace, that was useful, along with several cans of old-world fire gel. Sterno, the cans read on the side. All hail the god of fire, Bucky thought. There were some dry rations and some fresher cuts of meat that had recently been cooked and were hanging up to dry.

A bag of honest to god carrots that might even be edible. 

Two bed rolls, one of which was ruined by the fact that there was a dead body on it.

Two gallons of water in plastic jugs. 

Bucky lead them deeper into the caves.

Guns and belts of reloads.

Guzzoline.

More Sterno. A few sacks of dried fruits and nuts and bits of flaked beef. Travel rations. A whole box of tinned food from Before, and a can-opener.

“Ten Rings lives well,” Bucky said, a touch resentfully.

“Hey-- hey, oh, hey, look at this,” Tony was saying, and Bucky had to stop and squint into the darkness.

“It’s one of theirs,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, what better way-- we can borrow their clothes, and--”

“You want us to pretend to be _Ten Rings_? And do what, exactly?” Please, Bucky was thinking, can we please not roll back up to Ten Rings and give them hell, even though we could?

“Join their caravan looking for us, and get away? Why not, it’s brilliant, they’d never expect it,” Tony said. “We can load up the war truck, fill up on their guzzoline.”

“What could go wrong?” Bucky wondered.

“Lots, but we can talk it through, I think we can do this. If nothing else, they won’t chase this vehicle,” Tony said. “Not for a while, at least. And I can do some play under the engine, make it faster, rig us up some surprises. I think it’ll work. I really think it’ll work!”

And Bucky wasn’t about to deny the shining excitement in Tony’s eyes. _I really am in trouble._

“Oh, and spare parts,” Tony whistled.

“Then,” Bucky said, not knowing where his mouth was going with this, “I think you owe me that kiss.”


	4. Each of Us in Our Own Way Was Broken

Tony startled, jerked back. “Are you kidding?” 

“I’m not,” Bucky said, easily, still looming over Tony like the world’s largest gigolo. “Were you?”

Tony almost admitted that he had, in fact, not been serious at all. It was just a thing he said, because those few friends he had usually laughed and let him, and touch was always good, but actual kissing, kissing that meant something, kissing that might lead somewhere, that was never on the books. 

Not anymore.

Except, the more Tony looked up into that beautiful, wild face, and the more he remembered that he’d been hurt and beaten and treated with cruelty, the more he wanted a reminder of what it was to live, what it was to be loved. Maybe Bucky wouldn’t care about him, no more than a brief touch of lip and tongue, but maybe… maybe for just a little while, Tony could pretend that he was important to someone.

That he was a man who needed comfort, and who could give it in return.

“Yeah, okay,” Tony said. “Why not?”

Bucky looked down at him, those steely grey eyes glittering in the near darkness, plush full lips that opened just a little, in shock or in anticipation, Tony couldn’t tell. And it seemed that he _had _to kiss Bucky, as basic and elemental as his need to breathe. As much a part of himself as his throbbing blood and his beating heart.

Everything in the world came to a screeching halt; no Ten Rings, no bloody war, no survivors, no conquerors. There was only Bucky, and Tony, and Tony’s desperate need to be kissed.

Bucky kissed him, feather light brushes at first, but then let his tongue slip inside Tony’s mouth, exploring, tasting, testing him. Tony’s arms went up, helpless, surrendering, wrapped tight around Bucky’s neck and pulled him down.

When they pulled back, both of them were breathing harder, and Tony had an uncomfortable tightness through the front of his pants. But there was no place to lay down that wasn’t stained with blood and there were, in fact, two dead men that needed to be removed, loot that needed to be packed. There was no time, nor place, for pleasure.

“Yeah, okay,” Tony said, as if he was repeating himself. Everything in his world had changed, but the earth just kept on turning.

“We should get out of here,” Bucky said.

“I agree,” Tony said. “Out of here, away from here, and--”

“We can pick this up later.”

Tony nodded, started sorting through Ten Rings’ ill-gotten gains, and dividing it. What they could use, pack, store. The rest would be burned, buried or ruined to keep Ten Rings from making use of it.

And the whole time, Tony could still taste Bucky on his lips. As if Bucky was still there, still kissing him, still caring about him.

And always would be.

Tony rolled his eyes at himself. Romantic, he accused.

He looked over to see Bucky watching him steadily, and then he gave a little smile and a wave. _Hi, I see you._

_Hopeless _romantic.

They worked, there was a lot of work to do, but they kept drifting closer together, like two wayward planets, until Bucky’s hand was brushing his from time to time, and they would startle, and then laugh.

“What’s your home like?” Bucky asked. “Sure you didn’t jus’ spring up as Ten Rings.”

“Gone,” Tony said. “We were caravaning when Ten Rings attacked us. I don’t know who survived, if anyone. I was the only one they captured.” Or at least the only one who was taken to that particular camp. There might have been others. “Uh, where we used to live, there’d been a deep well, some farming, some trade. Raiders, from time to time, but we managed to hold our own. And then the firestorm came. I don’t know what caused it, but it destroyed everything. We packed what was left and went looking for a new home. I don’t know where any of them are, not anymore.”

“There’s a lot of land out here to get lost in,” Bucky agreed. “And not a lot of land worth living on. We might be able to send out scouts, if you know where they were headed, even a direction they intended.”

Tony blinked. Giving him a place to stay, purpose, and not killing him outright were more than most people would do. “What’s in it for you?”

“I’d say human decency,” Bucky responded, “but I don’t think you believe that.”

“No one’s decent, anymore,” Tony said. He could barely remember a time before the war, before the Way it Is, before the world was killed. Before the bombs and guns, before the parched lands and the lack of food.

“Ain’t entire truth,” Bucky said. “You can find it, if you know where to look. But we’re down a trade partner; used to get powder from the Bullet Farm and guzzoline from GasTown. People settle, they almost always do. We could use more trade. Starting with family or friends, that makes it easier than walking blind into a town and hoping for barter.”

“And what do you trade?” Tony wondered. Before, when they still had a home, before the firestorm, they were miners and diggers. Ironmongers, Obie had called them. Tony was a mechanic, an engineer, an inventor. One of their best, to be honest. But he wasn’t the only one. They traded for parts, fixed cars and guns. Honestly, all they’d need to settle was a large dumping ground for cars and junk that had a halfway decent defensible layout. 

“Water, mostly,” Bucky said. “We have a desal plant near us, been keeping us in clean water for years.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “A working factory?”

“Not as much as it used to be,” Bucky said. “We could use a good mechanic.”

Tony’s guts sank; of course Bucky wanted him for his skills, not for himself. He didn’t shiver so much as he just… went numb.

“There’s plenty,” Bucky said. “Work, water, crops. For trade.”

Tony wet his lips with a swipe of his tongue. “Sure, for trade.”

“I mean that,” Bucky said. “We’re offering a better retirement plan than Ten Rings, but it’s still an offer.”

“So, I could just… go?”

Bucky shrugged. “You want to divide the spoils and split, we can do that. Lotta times, those fleeters we pick up are happy to have a home, but if you miss yours, I’ll do my best to get you back to ‘em.”

“Might not be anyone to go back to,” Tony said, trying not to think of Rhodey, Carol… the Vision. Peter. His friends, his family. And Obie, of course.

“There might not be,” Bucky said, nodding. “But if there is, we can find them.”

Tony looked over, trying to gauge Bucky’s sincerity, and how much the trust between them was stretching and pulling taut. He liked Bucky, and he had to admit, the man was damn attractive, missing arm and bulky prosthetic or not. Tony hitched in a breath, let it out, and then made his decision. “Safer to stay together,” he offered. “Protect one vehicle. I can look for my people once we’re settled. Hell, if you have access to a flier, I can do aerial sweeps until there’s some sign.”

“You can fly a plane?”

He didn’t bother to mention that half of his people could, Rhodey could fly most anything with wings and jet fuel, and Carol could fly all the rest of it. They’d had a chopper, at one point. Before the firestorm. “Flying’s not that hard. Pitch, yaw, altitude, and thrust.”

Bucky chuckled. “I’ll take your word for it. I only know thrust, myself.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah. I bet you do, at that.”


	5. Some Kind of Redeption

“Do not jostle my arm,” Tony said, not looking away from what he was doing. Bucky had no idea; he was a fighter, a driver, and sometimes a leader. What he was not was an engineer. But Tony had said he’d rig the supply dump to blow once they were safely away. And not, in the meanwhile, lead Ten Rings straight to them.

“All right,” Tony said, stepping backward from the device. “As long as there aren’t any unexpected earthquakes, we should have three hours before it goes ka-boom. More than enough time to make miles.”

“Can they disarm it?”

Tony shrugged, moving a few pieces of junk closer. Without looking really carefully at the device, Bucky wouldn’t have seen anything amiss with it. No giant display of counting down red numbers or anything like that. “What one man can build, another can destroy,” Tony said. “That said, it’s got a number of triggers in it that trying to take it apart might just blow it up faster.”

“Well, if I have to trust your competency over theirs, I’m glad you’re on my side,” Bucky said. “Come on, let’s get out of here before there are unexpected earthquakes.”

“I’m right behind you,” Tony said. 

Which was going to be true for a while; they’d packed up a cart that affixed to the back of Bucky’s motorcycle. If they had to move faster, they could cut the cart and flee. So Tony would ride on the back, his arms around Bucky’s waist, nose practically in Bucky’s hair, and-- “What is this?”

Bucky plucked the old helmet he’d found in the bottom of one of the crates. “It’s for you,” Bucky said, and he placed it over Tony’s curls, securing the strap, and then moving the goggles in place. 

“Given that we live in a world where people shoot at you just in case you happen to have a canteen of aquacola on you, motorcycle safety seems a bit ridiculous, don’t you think?”

Bucky tilted his head a little and claimed a quick kiss, tasting the dust on Tony’s lips, the sweetness underneath. “Some of my favorite things are right between my hands at the moment,” he said. “Let’s take care of them, okay?”

Tony was a bit breathless when he replied, “Yeah, sure, okay, motorcycle safety.”

Bucky threw a leg over the bike and waited for Tony to clamber on behind him. The sun still hadn’t quite cracked the edge of the world open like an egg on the side of a frying pan, but the greyish dawn light was easy enough to see. He kickstarted his bike, feeling the purr of the big engine under him, the heat of Tony at his back.

If they had just a little luck, Ten Rings would show up just at the right moment and blow themselves to Hell. and if not, they’d still lost their supply dump and they’d have little to no way to find either Tony or their supplies.

Bucky didn’t bother to think if they had no luck.

_Make your own luck. Believe that you deserve it._

“Hold on,” Bucky yelled, and they moved out, the cart rattling behind them. It was noisy, and awkward, and Tony had attached fucking training wheels to Bucky’s bike, to keep it steady. It looked stupid, felt safer.

Motorcycle safety.

_Gonna kiss you stupid when we’re safe and away_, Bucky thought.

Which was assuming a lot. That there was anywhere in the world that was safe, anymore. But Bucky would settle for not in immediate peril, really.

Maybe Tony felt some of that determination in the way Bucky was holding himself, because his hands tightened around Bucky’s abdomen, and he rested his cheek against Bucky’s back. If it were possible for Tony to hear Bucky’s heartbeat, he could have.

Bucky squeezed Tony’s hands once, and then got back to the business at hand, driving.

When they were more than an hour down the road, Tony tapped Bucky’s shoulder and gestured to a pile of junk.

“What?” Bucky pulled to a stop. 

“Crane,” Tony said. “If it’s steady enough, I can climb up and take a peek. The bomb should be going off soon.”

Tony didn’t even bother to take his helmet off, he just scampered up the rusting metal ladder with the agility of a lizard. From inside his vest, he pulled out a flat device, put it up to his eye. Farseer, Bucky thought, and wondered if Tony had made it himself or scavenged it. Didn’t matter, in either case, Tony was a find; he was constantly solving problems that Bucky didn’t even realize they had yet.

“You see anything?” Bucky yelled up.

“Smoke and a big-ass hole in the ground,” Tony said, sliding down. “Can’t tell if they were in there or not, but in any case, they probably won’t be looking for us anymore.”

“No sense starin’ at a big-ass hole, then,” Bucky said. “Come on down an’ let’s get out of here.”

“Right with you,” Tony said, although he didn’t move, still peering off at Ground Zero. 

“Well, you could be _with me_,” Bucky said, leaning on the nearest bit of busted machinery. “You know, full time.”

Exactly perfect timing, Tony dropped the farseer in his surprise and Bucky caught it neatly in his flesh hand before it hit the ground. It stung like hell, it was moving at a fair clip before he grabbed it, and Tony’s mouth sprung open. “Holy shit-- did you just… did you… you _fucking show off_! Did you just proposition me?”

“Tony, babe--” Bucky squinted up at him, refraining from shaking out his smarting palm, “I am lookin’ straight up at your ass. Can you think of a better time t’ ask you if you want t’ co-habitate?”

Tony took a deep breath and Bucky was giving himself fifty-fifty odds that Tony was either going to shoot him down completely, or throw himself into Bucky’s arms.

Tony moved his feet, gripping the outside of the ladder’s rails, and slid down neatly. “Yeah, okay,” Tony said. He wiped a line of sweat off his forehead, smudging his skin and making his hair stand up crazily. He was the most beautiful thing Bucky had ever seen. Shiny and chrome and pure and perfect.

“Yeah?”

Tony didn’t bother to answer him with words. He wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck and kissed him, soft and sweet and eager.

_Yeah._


End file.
